


Live And Let Die

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Spy vs Spy [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Assassin Stiles Stilinski, Assassins & Hitmen, EVEN MORE WRONG, EVERYTHING GOES WRONG, Established Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Spies & Secret Agents, Spy Scott McCall, action movie violence, keeping secrets, the truth comes out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wolf's claws left their mark across the Hunter stronghold, and Chris Argent's face. However, his most important mission ended in smoke and ash, and not the good kind. With the mysterious flashdrive destroyed, the Wolf and Killshot face off for their most dangerous battle yet. This time, without their masks.</p><p>Or, that Sciles Spy AU!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live And Let Die

“SCOTT!”

Someone was screaming and it took Stiles too long to realize that it was him. He hit the floor beside his best friend, shuddering at the way the blood soaked through the knees of his khakis. He turned Scott’s body, hands fluttering over the ruined mess of his chest as he looked desperately for a pulse.

“C’mon buddy, you can’t. Oh god, Scott. I can’t do this. You can’t be dead, please wake up.” Stiles begged the universe to hear him as he found a thread pulse beneath his fingers. Scott’s eyes fluttered, hazy and unfocused as he tried to sit up, but Stiles kept him from moving as he peeled back his soaked, ruined clothes.

“I’m sorry.” Scott mumbled the words over and over again as he reached up with a smile, smearing bloody fingertips down the side of Stiles’s jaw. “I tried. I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t say anything, you’re going to be okay.” Stiles pleaded, feeling sick as he finally tore through Scott’s shirt to see the extent of his injures. It looked like Scott had tried to staunch the bleeding, which had probably saved his life. He needed to get his boyfriend to the hospital before he lost any more blood.

“I tried to leave for you. I couldn’t, I-I couldn’t…”

Stiles couldn’t breathe for a moment, air kicked from his lungs at the whispered words. Scott had confronted his father. He’d convinced Scott to stay with him and this was the price his gentle, loving friend had paid to stay together. If Stiles brought him to the hospital, then that bastard might be able to track him down, and he was  _never_ going to let Scott’s father put a hand on him again.  

Stiles carefully wrapped his arms around Scott’s frame, supporting his weight. He pressed a kiss to his brow, trying to ignore the angry bruises across the side of his face before he carried him to bed. Scott was trembling, so minutely, Stiles didn’t think his boyfriend even knew he was doing it. It terrified him, but Stiles was never one to back down from a challenge. When the stakes were this high, he couldn’t even imagine running scared.

“I’m going to take care of you, Scott.” Stiles promised, anger forced his voice to steady. He’d dragged himself through missions with broken bones and bullet holes. He’d single-handedly given himself six stitches. He’d watched the Ghost cauterize her own injuries with the barrel of a smoking gun. He could save his best friend’s life. “Just hold on for me. No one’s going to hurt you again.”

Scott was crying. Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen him cry before, and this wasn’t fair. Stiles was going to make those responsible for hurting him pay.

The assassin always made a point of not bringing his work back home. It was easier to not have to explain military grade weapons, or worse, have Scott think he was secretly a redneck. That didn’t mean the Hunters was completely out of resources. First he reapplied Scott’s bandages, working with the efficiency most medical professionals would envy. 

Tucked into the bottom of his backpack, hidden inside a bottle of multivitamins that Stiles hadn’t touched in months was the assassin’s emergency medical kit. He had dehydrated volume expanders, modified stitches, and clean water. No one was shooting at him. This should’ve been the easiest job Killshot ever had, but by he still wasn’t ready. When he returned, Scott’s heart had given out. Stiles went weak in the knees.

He grabbed his favorite bedside lamp with the hula girl base, smashing it open as he pulled out the wires with shaking hands. He stripped the ends with his teeth and stumbled into the kitchen, digging through the drawer for two wide metal spoons. He wrapped the ends with rubber gloves, tied the wires around the spoons and flicked on the power.

“Stay with me, Scotty.” He breathed, bringing the makeshift defibrillator paddles to his boyfriend’s ruined chest. Scott’s body jerked as the electricity jolted through him again and again as Stiles desperately searched for a pulse. He sobbed in relief when Scott gave a quiet gasp for air, hands ghosting over the scotched marks he burned into the dark skin. “I’m sorry, oh god.”

He patched the wounds as best he could, binding them tightly and finally stopping the bleeding. Scott had stabilized, but was dangerously pale, his skin cold to the touch and his breathing shallow. He needed help, but the thought of Scott ending up back in his father’s hands was even worse. 

Stiles sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands and stained in his boyfriend’s blood. This was all his fault, he’d put Scott in this position and just left him alone to face a monster. He should have known, how could he have abandoned his best friend when Scott needed him the most? Weary and heartbroken, Stiles pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number that he never should have from an unsecured line.

“Allison, I need your help.”

“Stiles? What is it, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Scott.” He said, looking over at the unconscious man still struggling to breathe. “He’s hurt and it’s my fault.”

There was silence on the line, but Stiles rushed to fill it too eagerly. He couldn’t care about Allison’s disapproval, not when Scott barely roused as he injected a makeshift IV into his hand. He was running low on supplies. The blood volume expanders wouldn’t be enough to keep Scott stable if they couldn’t get him to a hospital, and Stiles was terrified that he wouldn’t make it to morning.

“Please, Allison. I need an emergency kit. I can’t - I can’t get it myself. I can’t leave him. Or he’ll die.” His voice broke towards the end, unbidden. It was enough to get a response out of Allison.”

“Tell me your address.”

Stiles swallowed thickly. She was making a point that he didn’t care to see. Their covers were a defense. Allison probably had the most elaborate one in the organization; Stiles had only learned who the Ghost was after he’d proved he was good enough to keep up with her. While they had the means to screw each other over, it was trust that kept them from probing too deeply. Forcing him to reveal the truth meant outlining a weakness.

Stiles didn’t care. “219 Wilcroft St. The brick building.”

He thought he heard her sigh. “Seven minutes.”

Then all Stiles heard was the dial tone. Exactly seven minutes later, he was on the roof of his apartment complex, staring down a figure clad in black. She was tall for a woman, but about average for a man. Her stance and costume made it impossible to define her as one or the other, while her features remained perfectly masked. This close, he recognized that the gear wasn’t taken from the Hunters’ armory, but even in an improvised getup, the Ghost was nearly invisible.

She held out a metal brief case, but only spoke when Stiles made a grab for it. “When I said I’d cover for you, I still expected you to keep your head.”

Stiles had scrubbed the blood from his hands, but they still felt filthy. He’d left Scott as well as he could manage, wrapped in blankets but still so deathly pale, and in his mind, he was already gone for too long. “This was an emergency. I needed this.”

“This could be  _dangerous._ You’re being reckless. ”

“One of us has to! It’s been four months, and you still can’t even be in the same room as Kira!” Stiles yelled. The Ghost didn’t move an muscle, but stony silence was just as damning as anything he could have said. “I - I get reckless, yeah, and maybe this’ll screw things up, but trying to save him is never going to be a mistake. I didn’t know why it was a big deal before, but I don’t need your regrets.”

“Calling me here is just plain stupid, you’re risking too much for this.” Allison bristled at the accusation and threw the metal brief case against his chest hard enough to send him back a step. “And you  _don’t_  get to bring up Kira. I’ve been supporting you every step of the way, but we’re not the same.”

“You’re the one who said how rare it was that people like us ever fall in love.” He shot back, hugging the emergency medical kit tightly. “I know what you’d do for her, you think I wouldn’t do the same thing for Scott? Did you even know that the Wolf had his hands on her today?”

Stiles’s head rocked back before he could say another word, the Ghost moving so quickly he didn’t see the punch coming until pain bloomed in his jaw. “You have  _no_  idea.” She snarled, the normally composed Huntress seething. “Maybe it’s okay for you to flaunt the rules and go building some perfect fake life with someone because you had me running interference with my Dad, but I’m his  _daughter_. I don’t get that choice, I don’t even get to try. You don’t know what it’s like to be born into this life, raised for it since you were a kid. This is all I’m ever going to be. People like me can’t change.”

She turned his back on him, dismissing any half-formed apology he tried to make. Some people were allowed to be reckless, the Ghost wasn’t one of them. “Go save your boyfriend and keep trying to hold this little fantasy together as long as you can. I’m going to need you to get your head on straight and come back to work. The world’s coming apart and I can’t do this myself.”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles murmured, but the Ghost was already gone.

He looked one last time to be sure, before rushing down the fire escape to crawl his way back into his apartment. Now he had everything he needed to save his best friend’s life. He just didn’t realize until now how high the cost had been. 

Scott wouldn’t wake up. Stiles mopped and bleached their floors, secured the locks around their house, and swept away the last of his hula lamp. He spent some time on his laptop, looking up garage sales and old antique stores in their area, the sort of places he could get an equally obnoxious lamp and Scott could get those really old comics that he liked so much.

Scott wouldn’t wake up. Stiles double-checked his makeshift IV, and changed out his solution bag. He did a load of laundry. He made a sandwich and decided to save it for when Scott woke, because Scott would wake up. It was only a matter of time.

He held his boyfriend’s hand. He listened to him breathe, each ragged exhale leaving Stiles hollow and exhausted, but it was more comforting than the portable ECG that beeped in time with Scott’s vitals. He kissed his knuckles, smeared cream across the angry bruise under his eye, and promised he could make it all better.

“We’re going to New York, Scotty, just you and me, like you talked about. I’ll take a couple of days off from work, and it’ll be good. It’ll be  _great._  Just you, me, the Big Apple and all the hot dogs we can eat. I’ll carry you all the way to the top of the Empire State building, and we can make out at the top, okay? Just… Just you wait.”

When Stiles pulled away, he didn’t go far. He sat on the edge of their bed, balancing his laptop on his knees as he started a more thorough search on one Rafael McCall. This time, he’d gone too far. He’d gotten little more than his search program up and running, when a tired whimper by the top of the bed caught his attention. Stiles nearly dropped his laptop in haste.

Scott’s hands curled at nothing like he was trying to grasp something or defend himself. He gave a gasping moan as Stiles rushed to his side, trying to sooth him back to sleep. Whispered words offered promises that Stiles would tear the world apart to keep.

“You’re safe. It’s okay, Scott, it’s going to be okay. Relax, you’re here with me.”

Something dark and menacing stalked through the halls of Scott’s fractured mind, nightmares pulled from memories and twisted by sedatives. There were wolves in his head and their howls set his body on fire. He held out his hands to ward them off, twisted and claws, unrecognizable as human. Even his words were garbled, pleas incoherent in a mouth full of fangs. He ran from the creatures that hunted him and stumbled over bodies sprawled in his way, feet slipping in the blood that pooled around his ankles.

“I’m sorry.” Scott didn’t even know he was speaking, words running into each other with every shallow breath as Stiles brushed the hair from his forehead and tried to calm him.

Red eyes cut through the darkness with a low growl that echoed in his skull. Peter Hale’s smile was poison and he could feel it spread like numbing venom. He couldn’t fight it, he never could. The old terrors kept him bound, he was always just a boy facing off against his greatest fear. No, _becoming_  it.

“I love him.” He begged the figure, reaching out to Peter like he could make the man understand.

The Alpha just gave him another fanged grin.  _“You’re always going to be mine.”_

“N-no.”

_“My Wolf.”_

“No!” Scott thrashed against Stiles’s grip, mind turning the helping hands into Peter’s as the Alpha laughed. “Just let me leave. Please…”

_“You’re never going to leave me.”_  Peter purred and Scott sagged against him, letting his Alpha stroke a possessive hand through his hair. He loved this and he hated it. He’d been remade into something inhuman, desperate for his creator’s affections. It was sick and he knew it, craving it anyways as he nuzzled into the warmth of the other man.

“I’ll be good.” He slurred, giving in as he always did to the one who held his leash. “I’ll be good for you.”

Stiles was breathing hard as he dropped the empty sedatives syringe on the floor. He caught Scott as he slumped forward, drugs pulling his boyfriend back into unconsciousness. Horror crawled up the back of his throat as Stiles wiped the escaping tears from Scott’s cheeks with trembling fingers.

“You’re safe, Scott.”

Scott didn’t have an answer for him, and it left an empty hole in Stiles’s chest where his heart used to live. The absence festered, spreading across his ribs and threatening to swallow his lungs. Maybe it would swallow him whole. Stiles never met the man. He never saw his face, but he knew without a doubt that Rafael McCall was a monster, and he was going to pay for what he’d done.

Scott slept fitfully through the night and into the next day. Stiles couldn’t sleep at all. He couldn’t leave his boyfriend’s side, finding a way to fit under their sheets, even though he should have been giving Scott more space. He couldn’t help it. Stiles convinced himself that Scott rested best when they were tucked against one another, like he had any way of warding off his patient’s nightmares. In truth, Scott helped keep away Stiles’s.

Slowly, but surely, the color returned to Scott’s cheeks. He woke up briefly, disoriented and confused, and let Stiles feed him soup and crackers. Sometimes he asked for people. Stiles mostly, and it warmed his heart. Sometimes someone named Theo. Stiles thought about those times more than he should have.

It was only with Scott sound asleep and pressed against his side that Stiles could let his mind safely drift towards other things. Rafael McCall was at the top of his list. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he searched through Scott’s bag, but his wallet was unhelpfully empty. Stiles learned his boyfriend looked cute even in his driver’s license, but that was unhelpful. Most of it was unhelpful. When he looked up Rafael McCall, dozens of links came up, but Stiles couldn’t find an address or a contact number, but he couldn’t have lived too far away if Scott was still seeing him. The connections to his work place didn’t lead to anything substantial, just a whole lot of nothing.

It was dressed up nicely. It took more than a couple of Google searches to cut through the window dressing, but that was all it is. Something wasn’t adding up, and something lingered in the back of Stiles’s mind, an ugly beast he wasn’t ready to face, especially not when he was trying to make Scott more soup, but a strangled cry echoed from somewhere inside their apartment.

Stiles dropped the spoon with a clatter and rushed back to Scott’s side. “Hey no. Relax, buddy, you’re okay.” He murmured, digging around in the med kit for another dose of sedatives. It was easier to keep Scott out of it, he didn’t thrash or hurt himself while he was under and he needed as much rest as he could to heal. Stiles lead over his boyfriend, syringe in hand, to press a kiss to the side of Scott’s face.

Scott’s eyes few open and something cold and ugly slid across his face, twisting it into something Stiles didn’t recognize. He moved by instinct and without conscious thought, smacking the syringe away and twisting Stiles’s wrist until he yelped in pain. Metal slid from Scott’s wristwatch, covering the back of his hands and ending in sharpened points at the end of his fingertips. The claws dug painfully into Stiles’s pulse as the man on the bed snarled before everything stopped.

The two men stared at each other in shock, frozen as a single thin drop of blood slowly oozed from where the claws had just broken the skin and down his neck.

“Wolf.”

It was an accusation, a whispered threat. Scott’s eyes snapped open and words died before he had a chance to speak as Stiles knocked his hand away from his neck. He stumbled backwards and drew the handgun he’d been saving for the wrong McCall. Stiles shot through the pillows on their bed in a spray of feathers, but Scott…the  _Wolf_  had already rolled to his feet. The creature struck in a blur of metal, still so fast despite his injuries and fueled with adrenaline and fear. It drove Stiles back as he tried to parry each strike without getting skewered.

Scott knocked him aside, diving through the doorway and throwing his body to the side Stiles shot after him. Killshot leaned against the opposite side of the wall, a few inches of wood and drywall separating them as they both gasped for air.

This wasn’t happening, it wasn’t real. Just another nightmare like all the others that had been chasing him. Scott fisted clawed hands in his hair, smothering a sob as he heard the sound of another bullet being chambered.

“It’s you.”

Stiles’s voice was empty and Scott wondered why he’d never noticed it before. Some master spy, he’d been so caught up in the game, so caught up in this lie that the possibility… He’d wanted this so badly he’d never let himself see. Oh god, he was such an idiot. Scott’s voice broke over an ugly laugh, reality shattering around him like glass. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his head drop back against the wall between them.

“I guess it’s time for that dance.”

He never got his answer. The wall behind him splintered around Killshot’s bullet, but Scott had already darted away, sliding past the doorway to their bedroom and making a run for their living room.  _Three shots._ His enemy was hot on his trail. A fourth shot rang out, breaking their coffee table in half. It missed Scott by a hair, but the Wolf didn’t turn back to revel in his escape.

_Four._

He threw open their window, throwing himself into the fire escape and climbing up towards the roof. A vicious snarl echoed from below as Killshot scrambled to keep up. Another shot soared past him, banging against the metal railings, making Scott laugh into the night. It was too sharp and too shrill, and Scott wished he’d never woken up. “Try aiming with your eyes open! It’s like you’re not even trying.”

The steps shook beneath him under Killshot’s weight. Scott stumbled onto a landing, and stopped only long enough to kick at the escape ladder until the rusty nails that held it together gave way. He heard Stiles scream in surprise, and Scott… Scott couldn’t look back. He wasn’t Stiles anymore. Stiles was as real as Scott McCall. You couldn’t mourn what never existed.

He pulled himself up to the roof, sabotaging the fire escape as best as he could when his limbs ached and his muscles burned. A dozen ideas raced through his thoughts, a dozen escape routes that could have taken him away from the place he once called home. He almost got to the other end of the roof. Scott had a running start, but Stiles had one bullet left.

“Don’t move.”

The Wolf turned slowly, coming face to face with the man he’d learned to share his life with. The man who’d turned a lie into a fantasy. He couldn’t recognize that man now, not with the cruel indifference that cut across his face.

“It’s time I finished what I started.”

Stiles crushed Scott’s hopes like they meant nothing, but Scott flashed him a blinding, cheeky grin. “Funny. Your problem was always finishing too soon.”

Then with that same mocking salute, the Wolf threw himself off the ledge of the roof.

“No!” Stiles shout rang out before he could stop himself with his heart in his throat as he raced towards the building’s edge. He peered over, expecting to see the Wolf’s broken body on the pavement below but the spy was gone. A patio jutted out of the side of the building a few feet below the edge and the window to the apartment open where he must have made his escape.

Killshot howled his rage and betrayal after it. There was one bullet left and he promised it to the man who’d killed Scott McCall.

Scott leaned his cheek against the cool glass of the car window, watching the lights of the city flash past. He should be in pain, his life cut to pieces and broken, but he couldn’t feel a thing. A quiet numbness dulled the ache until he felt nothing at all.

Scott didn’t care to notice, until they came to a stop, not at the entrance of their base as he expected, but in a quiet corner of town that he vaguely recognized as one of their safe houses. The Wolf wasn’t overly familiar with those. The Wolf never used to hide. “This isn’t headquarters.”

“We can’t talk at headquarters.” Theo put them in park, finally facing Scott properly. “And you won’t be able to rest there either.”

“I have a report to give.” There wasn’t any heat behind Scott’s protest, just quiet, tired resignation, but it seemed to make Theo angry.

“What’s so important that you can’t talk to me? Your last check in was over 24 hours ago, on what was little more than a rogue mission. No one knew where you were Scott, or who gave the order. I thought you were dead!” Then it was Theo who gasped, and unlocked his seat belt. He lifted up Scott’s shirt, fussing over him hurriedly and tried to stave the bleeding through his stitches. Scott let him. In that moment, Scott would’ve let him do anything. 

“I know who Killshot is.” 

That shut Theo up, but it took more strength than Scott had to say his name. Everything hurt, and he didn’t know how to make it stop, but he clung to protocol now. It had been his life for so long. Haletech had defined everything about him. Peter would… Peter would want to know what he found out.  “He never was a civilian.”

“Oh my god.” The answer was glaringly obvious and Theo gently pulled Scott into his arms without any resistance. “It was him? You really had no idea?”

Scott didn’t answer and turned his face into Theo’s chest, letting himself cling to something warm and familiar. He was broken and his partner held him carefully to keep the pieces together. “You were right.” It was that final admission that cut the deepest. All the warning signs had been there, he’d been too stupid to notice them. He’d let himself want something impossible and it had left him blind, vulnerable and outplayed.

“He must have known. Somehow he must have found out who you were, that’s why he targeted you. The hunters were using you from the beginning.” Scott counted out the beats of Theo’s heart, trying to find something solid to hold on to before he drowned. He didn’t want to hear this, but Theo was right again. There was no Stiles, everything had been a Hunter’s trap and he’d been so eager to escape himself that Scott had swallowed the bait willingly. Killshot must have been trying to win his trust and get him to spill Haletech’s secrets. Love was a more delicate weapon than just torturing him.

But Stiles’s face had seemed so raw in that moment. Betrayed.

“He tried to kill me.” Scott mumbled into Theo’s shirt, that final admission enough to shatter the numbness. Rage rushed in, grief, pain, and loss. The world lurched unsteadily beneath him. Broken sobs tore through him and he hated himself for being so weak. The Wolf didn’t cry, but Scott didn’t know how to be the Wolf anymore.

“I didn’t want to be right. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”  he whispered against the side of Scott’s hair, holding him together when everything was falling apart. Theo never let him go. There were gentle fingers in his hair, and a hand low on his back. Theo didn’t tell him to stop crying, or mock him for his transgressions.

Scott believed the worst in Theo, when the other spy was only looking out for him. It was another mistake in a growing pile. Scott couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways he’d been wrong. Now, he didn’t know how to tell Theo that he still wasn’t sure how much of it had been a lie.

He let Theo help him to his feet, curled into him as they made their way into the safe house. At one point, he couldn’t say that the Chimera wasn’t carrying him, and Scott owed his friend more than he ever thought. His chest was an ugly splash of deep purples that inched to black and viscous reds, like a child had gone wild with a marker. There were burns on his skin, ones that would probably never fade completely. The memories were hazy, but Scott thought they were there because Stiles saved his life. After everything that happened, Scott still wasn’t convinced that it was all a trick, and he knew he was being intentionally blind. The worst part was that he didn’t want to stop, not completely.

“You shouldn’t have to lie to be happy, Scott.” 

“I have to tell Peter what happened. He has to know.” Scott protested as Theo helped him down to the bed, too tired to fight back against his partner’s compassion.

“We’ll tell him soon, but you’re a mess. Jesus, Scott, you’re barely holding it together. I’ll kill him for what he did to you.” Theo stripped the Wolf’s clothes and fussed at the bandages, cleaning the wounds to stop the bleeding. The other man didn’t even flinch staring blankly up at the ceiling. Gentle hands slowed, stroking down Scott’s ruined chest with jealous propriety. “You’re still the Wolf, you’re always going to be the Wolf and he doesn’t stand a chance. We’ll take him out together.”

This was the way it was supposed to be. He was a monster and Theo was never afraid of that. They didn’t have any secrets between them. Theo could see all those ugly terrible things he’d done and rather than being ashamed of him, his partner was proud. He had fought so hard to deny what he was, but here was his best friend, the only friend he ever truly had, who knew him better than anyone.

When Theo leaned down to kiss him, Scott didn’t resist. He tipped his head back, lips parted as he let his friend take everything he wanted. After everything he’d done to deny what he was, Theo was still so loyal. It broke what was left of his heart, no one deserved a friend like this.

“You were always it for me.” Theo murmured, dragging his mouth along Scott’s jawline. “I’ve waited so long for you to come back to me, but I knew it would happen. This is what you are and I love you for it. I want you to be with me. Be mine.”

Love? It was a promise of something Scott had never considered before. They’d cared about each other certainly. They’d fought for each others’ lives for so long. It was easy to imagine love as something softer and kinder, but he would admit he loved his Alpha in a heartbeat. Love was made of dedication and passion, and both could come with a set of claws. 

“What if I want more?” He breathed out the question as Theo’s mouth grazed his pulse. They’d done this more times than Scott could count, but he’d never been so vulnerable. Theo had never been so careful, but he laughed against Scott’s skin, like the sound was surprised out of him.

“What more is there?”

A strangled cry caught in his throat, something that might have once been a laugh, if he’d let it, but Scott was afraid that once he started laughing, he wouldn’t stop until he cried. Theo loved a man who no longer existed, and Stiles loved a man who never had. It was too much, too soon. “Stop,” he croaked, pushing at Theo’s shoulders, and for a second, Scott wondered what would happen if Theo didn’t want to. “I can’t do this.”

Anger cut across Theo’s features, sharpened to its worst by betrayal. Scott wished he didn’t read him so well. “We’re not doing anything, Scott.” Theo said, his voice a terrifying calm, but he pulled away only far enough to look the Wolf in the eye. “You’re hurt. I just want you to know, I’m going to take care of you like I always do when things go too far.”

He couldn’t go back to what they used to be, but he couldn’t become the man he wanted. He was stuck in the middle, but at least he wasn’t alone. Theo wouldn’t leave him, he had his job, his responsibilities. He still had the Wolf.

It was hard to slip back into the Wolf’s skin, but Theo always knew how to bring out the beast. He met his partner’s gaze, lips peeled back in a snarl.

“I don’t need you to take care of me. I need to kill Stiles.”

“I’m going to _kill_ the Wolf.” Stiles snapped, throwing another laptop across the room to smash against the wall in a hail of plastic and keyboard letters. “I’m going to put a bullet between his fucking eyes. No, I’m going to shoot out his kneecaps and then put a bullet between his fucking eyes. NO, I’m going to make him _beg_ me for it first!” He heaved a table over with a crash and Allison just sighed.

The room was a wreck, Stiles had demolished everything that wasn’t nailed down and Allison let him work out his rage. “Are you done throwing a tantrum?”

Killshot rounded on her, breathing heavily. “He used me, Allison! He made me care about him and he was just using me! That asshole, he had the nerve to come crawling back to my apartment after I almost killed him so I’d have to patch him back up again. I thought…I thought he was…” Stiles faltered, shoulders hunched in misery and hands trembling so hard he squeezed them into fists. “Why couldn’t I see it?”

“Because you didn’t want to see it. You loved him, Stiles, there’s no shame in wanting something normal.”

“What’s normal about letting the Wolf into my freaking bed, Allison? You know what he is! I have no idea how he managed to figure out who I was, but he must have targeted me somehow.”

“You’ll be go underground temporarily. You’ll be fine. Do you remember talking to him about anything related to the Hunters?”

Stiles’s expression surpassed itself by souring even further. “I… No. Maybe. I don’t know yet. He’s the fucking Wolf! He must have…”

The truth was that Stiles didn’t know. He’d been running over his memories of the last few months with a fine-toothed comb, but what he came up with left him sick to his stomach. Scott never asked him about work, not beyond what Stiles volunteered. The disappearances and injuries and flaky behavior all made sense now, but Scott just wanted to know  _him._  Not what Stiles could get him. The assassin cursed, kicking at his overturned table.

“We already have the entire agency looking for him.”

“It’s not enough!”

“It’s going to have to be, Stiles.” Allison said sharply. “I know he hurt you, and I know he’s going to pay for it. Right now we’re doing all we can to catch the Wolf, but we have more important matters to deal with. Are you with me? Because I could really use Killshot on this.”

Stiles quieted, scrubbing his hands over his face. In his mind’s eye, he could still taste the fear that burned in the back of his throat when Scott’s went into cardiac arrest. He still remembered what it was like to wake up tucked against the best friend he ever had, the promise of lazy kisses just a thought away. He wanted to be sick. “You have him.”

“Good.” Allison squeezed his shoulder gently, and Stiles couldn’t help but sag against her. She let him. Stiles almost thought she sounded remorseful. “Because I know what my Dad’s up to, and it beats out the Wolf by miles.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Makeshift defibrillator was inspired by The Librarians which is an awesome show that everyone should watch! 
> 
> You can find Dans's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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